Movieverse. Tony/Steve. NC-17. ~4600 words.
“With wild and crazy abandon,” Tony said, and grabbed him around the waist to yank him close like a black and white picture hero. “Hold on tight.”

–

Clichés tend to have some measure of truth in them, and the one clinging like a burr to the inside of Steve’s head was the more things change, the more they stay the same. Tony’s garage was home to a car from nearly every era, the smooth curves of a classic Austin-Healey sitting proudly between a sleek modern Audi and the reengineered Flathead roadster, each one as different as the year they’d been built.

But as much as cars had changed, Steve’s love of them remained, and his fascination-from-afar with technology’s advances steadily shifted into a particular, slightly embarrassing sort of appreciation.

He blamed Tony.

“And this one here,” Tony said, pointing at an insignificant looking thingamajig, “along with about seven hundred and fifteen others, ensures I don’t look like I’m trying to pull off a really crappy robot dance.”

Crouched at Tony’s side, Steve squinted at the dozen of tiny parts, trying to puzzle out exactly which one Tony meant. “I’m not sure I even know what that is.”

“What, the Robot? That street popper on the Boulevard-”

“No, not that,” Steve said, rapping a knuckle on the shiny red plates opened up on Tony’s thigh. “This.”

“Oh, that.” Tony waved a hand. “That’s sheer genius. Pretty much all you need to know.”

Steve’s hand lingered a little too long under paper-thin pretences. He snatched his fingers out of the way just in time as armoured plates shifted back into place. A quick upward glance revealed Tony’s unapologetic grin, the corner of it caught between straight white teeth.

As Steve straightened up, it melted into a silver-screen smile, heavy-lidded and utterly salacious. Tony’s arms draped heavily over his shoulders, metal-plated fingers gliding smoothly through the short hair at his nape. “So,” Tony said. “Ready to take me for a ride?”

Snorting out a small laugh, Steve settled his hands low on Tony’s hips. The suit’s smooth curves, the dozens and dozens of metal plates that allowed Tony to move so easily, flowed almost seamlessly beneath his palms. His fingertips found a ridge and followed it down to the slow rise of metal moulded perhaps a little too accurately over Tony’s ass.

Tony rocked up onto his toes, sending Steve’s hands skidding a little further down as he said, “I love it when you grope my suit. Gives me this warm tingly feeling.” He wriggled a hand between them, armoured fingers digging into Steve’s gut and then splaying wide, slipping low and cupping Steve’s cock with that bold and shameless glint in his eyes. “Right here.”

A wry quirk to his mouth, Steve said, “I thought you were going to show me what it’s like to fly.”

“I can so do that right here,” Tony said, and lewdly licked his bottom lip.

Rolling his eyes and steadfastly ignoring a tiny twitch of interest, Steve gave Tony’s hip a solid pat and went to haul on his gloves. It wouldn’t do to encourage Tony’s cheesier inclinations any more than feeding him the occasional line (which amazingly enough Tony still believed to be completely accidental). His outfit felt a little strange without the weight of a mail shirt but it would provide decent enough protection from the biting wind.

“Earmuffs?” Tony said, a bright red fuzzy pair dangling from the tip of one finger. “If you give me five minutes, I can even put little wings on them.”

Both brows lifted high, Steve tugged his cowl a little further up, tucking the lining over his ears. “How long have you been waiting for a chance to pull those out?”

“April.” Tony tossed the earmuffs aside with a sigh. “They were going to be a Christmas present. I got a little ahead of myself. It happens.” He tilted his head a fraction to the side as one of the bots helped to fit his helmet in place, the faceplate clanking down a second later. “Five seconds to lift-off, Captain,” he said, his voice instantly shifting to a familiar metallic echo as his eyes flickered to bright reactor blue.

Forcing the hitch out of his breath, Steve went to stand by Tony’s side. The suit’s sleek lines didn’t offer much in the way of a handhold. “How do we do this?”

“With wild and crazy abandon,” Tony said, and grabbed him around the waist to yank him close like a black and white picture hero. “Hold on tight. I’ll need my arms free to stabilise us at first.”

Steve sized up the skyport cut straight up through all three levels of Tony’s designer home. Tony’s chin lifted, Steve’s imagination filling in the lopsided grin hidden beneath it, and a low shivery laugh burrowed its way under Steve’s skin as he looped his arms around Tony’s neck.

“Nice.” Tony’s hands slid slowly up over Steve’s back. “Now, how about a kiss to christen the maiden voyage?”

“You’ve flown this suit a dozen times before, Tony,” Steve said, but still leaned down to give it. A moment later, when Tony’s face remained hidden and a strange, giddy tingling started up in his gut, so much like the first time they had kissed, he pressed parted lips to the suit’s hard-edged mouth. He cupped the back of Tony’s head in one palm as if it were a real kiss, as if he needed to fit Tony’s mouth just that little bit more firmly over his. The taste of metal exploded sharp and needle-thin across his tongue, and the soft noise Tony made was sweet with the suit’s mechanical tinge.

“I’m going to need a minute,” Tony said when he drew back. “Recalibrate sensory feedback, make sure my legs still work, get my mind out of the gutter, you know, the usual.”

Smug wasn’t something Steve felt often, preferring the fit of words like pleased or satisfied, but it was hard to feel anything else after knocking a man like Tony Stark back on his perky proverbial ass. “Ready when you are,” he said, resting one foot lightly over Tony’s for extra stability.

With the quiet hush of shifting metal, Tony looked up at the open port, then back down at Steve’s face. The slow, invisible spread of his smile pushed at Steve’s awareness, beautifully clear and like something tangible against his skin, and the high whine of redirected power was all the warning given before they shot for the sky.

The wind drove Steve’s breath straight back into his lungs. He ducked his head, choked and dizzied, buffeted on all sides. He clung to Tony’s chest as they levelled off, gravity pulling at him ruthlessly before an arm clamped tightly around his back.

“Still with me?” Tony asked, his voice cutting clear through the howl.

All Steve could manage was a nod. A few hundred feet of nothing but air lay between him and the rolling California coastline. His heart crashed around the inside of his chest, one part fear and two parts adrenaline-driven exhilaration, and he wondered if Tony could feel it through the layers of metal and flesh and bone separating them.

The world tilted a few degrees north and the words, “Wrap your legs around me,” whipped by.

“Trust me,” Tony said, his palm pressing a little harder against Steve’s side, his voice full of the teasing confidence he always used to talk Steve into doing crazy, crazy things. “Let me show you how to fly.”

The same foolishness that put this notion inside Steve’s head in the first place made him shift his legs higher, thighs clamped tight to Tony’s hips. The thick material of his pants cut the chill from the wind but not the low-level heat radiating from Tony’s suit. Sweat prickled at his scalp and he kept his eyes on the horizon as Tony rolled as smooth and lazy as the tide to settle onto his back, his arm falling from around Steve to leave only the wind above and Tony, sure and solid, beneath.

“My god,” Steve whispered, lifting his head to stare up at the miles and miles of clear blue sky. “No wonder you think you’re invincible sometimes.”

“Trust me now?” Tony called out.

Unable to imagine a time when he wouldn’t, Steve tucked his face back down in the sheltered crook of Tony’s neck. “Show me,” he said, a shift in the wind whipping through his words, carrying them away so quickly he wasn’t sure Tony had heard.

But Tony’s arm came around him again, holding him close as they sailed out into a great wide, looping spiral, Tony’s wild and joyful whoop sweeping out in their wake along with the last of Steve’s worries.

Long minutes later, they cut sharply to the right, Steve’s stomach pulling out some acrobatics of its own as ocean gave way to wide beaches and then sloped, gentle hills. “Legs up!” Tony shouted, and seized his belt near the small of his back, hoisting him unceremoniously higher up onto Tony’s chest as the ground flew up to meet them. Expecting the jarring thud of Tony’s usual entrance, Steve grit his teeth and braced himself, his ears ringing with the howling wind.

Less than fifty feet to go, Tony swooped out of the dive and landed as lightly as a petal on the breeze, one hand planted firmly on Steve’s ass and the other still holding him crushingly close.

Not an ounce of apology to be found, Tony said, “You feel good. Make a note to cling to me more often.”

Steve choked out a sharp laugh, a smile he was helpless to hold back taking all the bite out of it, and straightened up to have a look around. The sun-browned hills stretched on forever, dotted with thick-rooted trees and rounded glacial boulders. He walked to the small crest of the hill they stood on, working the wobbliness out of his legs and soaking up the sun, letting it warm him straight through.

The heavy thump of Tony’s suit falling to the ground in pieces yanked his attention from the quiet scenery. “Some help here,” Tony said, an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“What’s wrong?” Quickly, Steve reached for the chestplate as it sagged forward with a soft hiss. “How does this come off?”

Still wearing the gauntlets, Tony yanked at one of the plates on his shoulder and tossed it aside. “A hell of a lot easier than the last one. Just grab pieces and start pulling. All the locks are released.”

Setting the plate down with far more care than Tony could be bothered with, Steve ran through all the emergency scenarios Tony had briefed him on, everything from the Jarvis interface malfunctioning to a full power drain, and it wasn’t until he started pulling pieces away from Tony’s legs that it finally hit him.

He sat back on his haunches, leaving the hand he’d braced on Tony’s thigh right where it was. The skin-tight body sleeve Tony was wearing beneath the suit perfectly highlighted the hard curve of his cock. “So this is why you go flying so often.”

“Yes. What? No. Okay, yes,” Tony said, hopping on one foot while he yanked at the sections of his boot, and gave up without success. “Sorta. But not today. Maybe just a little today. Steve, seriously, if you don’t get up and kiss me right now, I’m going to leave you here.”

Without most of his armour, it was almost too easy for Steve to knock Tony down and roll above him. He puffed out a surprised breath that melted like warmed honey into a soft moan as Steve pinned his wrists above his head, arching and twisting and so touch-hungry it nailed Steve as hard as that first punch of wind in his face.

“Stay still if you want me to kiss you,” Steve said, with no real desire for Tony to stop but the curiosity there, the tiny niggling wonder if he could do it.

With one last hard tug against Steve’s grip, Tony slumped back into the crackling grass, strung-tight and quivering. “Okay,” he said, tongue swiping quickly out over his lip as his chin tilted up. “Kiss me now.”

Steve leaned down, dragging the moment out because he could, because he liked the warm puff of Tony’s breath against his lips as much as Tony liked the tight grip on his wrists, and the longer he hovered just out of reach, the harder it was for Tony to keep still.

When Tony’s low moan started to spill free, Steve kissed him, pushed it right back in on the tip of his tongue. Always a little pushy, a little demanding when he was like this, Tony just let it happen, lips soft and parted, pliant.

As soon as the thought crossed Steve’s mind, Tony’s tongue slipped away, forming words that Steve kissed into nonsense mumbles, until the thin thread of Tony’s patience snapped and he pushed up, turned lazy kisses to the hard scrape of teeth.

Steve gathered both of his wrists in a loose one-handed grip, easy enough to break but the best he could manage while Tony still wore the gauntlets. From the noise Tony made, one of those eager, lip-biting ones that shivered under Steve’s skin, it didn’t matter.

Patting down Tony’s thigh, Steve came with three packets and one condom, and Tony’s response to his sideways glance was a shrug not quite casual enough to offset the gleam of pure devilment in his eyes. “That was for you, but I’m on bottom and I’m okay with a little sloppy.”

Steve tossed everything into the grass at Tony’s side, the foil glinting in the sun and scattering light on the pieces of Tony’s suit. “Just how long do you expect to be out here?”

Tony said, “Long enough,” and slipped a hand free, fumbling at his shoulder for a moment before snagging the zipper tab, drawing it across his chest, down until his knuckles bumped Steve’s stomach. The arc reactor’s bright glow spilled out into the shade between them, pulsing softly. “Get the rest.”

Steve hauled off his gloves and reached for the zip, only realising then that it continued down between Tony’s legs, a little off-centre, and up the back at a slight angle. “Did you-”

“Side benefit of a practical feature,” Tony said, pushing the material aside to lightly grasp his cock, a ragged sound bubbling up in the back of his throat as cool, battle-scarred metal touched warm flesh. “God, always feels so good.”

For a second, Steve couldn’t do anything but stare. Tony was only half out of his armour, still mostly in the bodysuit, laid out on the grass with one hand on his cock while fumbling at Steve’s belt with the other, and all he could think was Tony jerks off with his suit.

“Iron Man to Cap,” Tony said, yanking Steve’s belt free of the loops, the slap of leather spiking Steve’s pulse. “Need some help with an extraction here.”

The last scrap of stale air in Steve’s lungs puffed free on a groan. He pushed Tony’s hand away, linking their fingers together briefly and squeezing slightly harder than he really needed to for Tony to feel it through the gloves. It was impossible not to wonder what it felt like. “That was terrible.”

“Oh, I’m paying attention.” Lube spilled out onto Steve’s fingers as he tore open the packet. On impulse, he wrapped his hand around the one Tony still had on his cock, squeezing gently as lube smeared over metal, making it glisten in the sunlight. The flat muscles of Tony’s stomach jumped. “But now I’ve got your attention, don’t I,” he said, and trailed his hand further down, pushed between the cheeks of Tony’s ass and up into the clinging heat of his body.

Tony breathed out a garbled string of words, easy to decipher when coupled with the grind of his hips down onto Steve’s hand and the way he grabbed up a handful of grass, brittle roots snapping like thin cotton threads. The zipper scraped Steve’s wrist as he shoved his other hand underneath Tony, getting a grip on the bodysuit to haul Tony straight up into his lap. The bits of metal still encasing Tony’s lower legs and part of his thighs shone a brilliant sun-washed red in the corners of his vision.

“You know,” Tony said, his attempt at a conversational tone completely ruined by a twist of Steve’s fingers. He sucked in a harsh breath, his legs visibly shaking as Steve pressed two fingers against the soft heat of his insides. A tiny push of Steve’s thumb near the rim of his hole, barely enough to remind him it was there, made his eyes flutter shut as he hooked an unsteady hand under his knee, hauled it closer to his chest.

“I know?” Steve prompted, tugging roughly at his fly. There wasn’t enough lube left in the packet to do a decent enough job of slicking his cock, but he needed two hands to get into a fresh one and he wasn’t ready to stop touching Tony yet. He never really was.

Tony grunted, blindly grabbing up a packet and tearing it open with his teeth. He spit the foil out, lube smearing shiny wet over his lips before he wiped them clean on his shoulder. “I knew this would be good,” he said, giving the packet a careless toss into Steve’s waiting hand, “but if I’d realised how good, I would’ve done it a hell of a lot sooner.”

Keeping his grip as light as he could, Steve slicked up, biting down on the inside of his cheek when he couldn’t help giving his cock a short, hard tug. It felt like his first time all over again, maybe better, still clumsy and overeager but without the nervousness, the need to be better than perfect, the sorts of things that with Tony never seemed to matter so much.

“We have done this before,” Steve said, more memories welling up, the kisses shared while Tony was still in the suit, moments when they’d both been too impatient to do much more than strip before tumbling into bed, onto the couch, the floor.

Tony said, “Not exactly like this,” and made a careful fist around Steve’s cock.

Both Steve’s hips and stomach jerked, his hand tightening on Tony’s thigh as slick, sun-warmed metal pressed in close. Tony grinned up at him, wriggled a little further up into his lap, and rubbed Steve’s cock over slippery flesh, lazily like every brush of skin on skin didn’t send an eager jolt through him, like his teasing wouldn’t drive them both steadily closer to crazy.

“See,” Tony murmured, cutting the word short on a sharp breath as Steve took hold of his wrist, made him wedge the head of Steve’s cock up snug against his asshole. “Pretty good, right?” he finished in a rush, muscle involuntarily clutching tight.

Better still when a little pressure made him open up to let Steve sink smoothly inside. He spilled a low moan out into the warm summer air, hitching slightly when his hand bumped against his ass and Steve kept going. With a shiver, Tony let go, held himself open with two fingers spread wide around Steve’s cock, and said, “Looks hot too, huh.”

Steve drove in hard, throttling back the noise that threatened to burst out of him in favour of hearing the one that flew out of Tony. Metal pressed firmly into flesh and Tony’s head tipped back, his elbow crunching into the dry grass as Steve ground in deep, a struggle for leverage to take more when he already had it all.

“Just like that,” Tony puffed out on a breath, his hand slipping out from between them, a ragged trail of lube left behind on his bodysuit, to gouge into the dirt. “Don’t go easy on me, Cap.”

The nickname wound its way under Steve’s skin, the playful tone, as if they were sparring in the gym, twisting through the part of his brain that struggled to keep the man writhing beneath him separate from the man that fought beside him. He’d loved his brothers-in-arms before, had respected and mourned them, but he’d never been in love with one of them. As old-fashioned as it was, the thing that squeezed tight in his chest when he thought about Tony felt far too much like that for him to ever forget that while Iron Man could shrug off slugs the size of a baseball, one bullet could put an end to Tony Stark.

Tony’s leg thumped heavily onto his shoulder, the armour’s blunt edges grating against bone. He let out a surprised grunt, bracing himself with one hand on Tony’s chest as he rocked forward under its weight. “Last chance,” Tony said. “Fuck me stupid or roll over.”

Cupping a hand under Tony’s knee, Steve pushed forward, lifting his ass up high and driving the breath out of him with a few short, shallow thrusts. His eyes went wide and the grin that started to take over his mouth fell right off his face as Steve’s rhythm shifted to long and hard. Tony’s bodysuit twisted as he squirmed, hiding the bright glow of the reactor and muffling the full slap of flesh, and his spine bowed as Steve drove in harder, caught up in the sensation of Tony’s body clutching at him, the sweet noises Tony never tried to hold back. Less than a heartbeat away from losing it, Steve ground to a halt, buried as deeply inside Tony as he could manage. He slipped free before he gave in to temptation, chest heaving as he thumped to the grass by Tony’s side.

“Cocky son of a bitch,” Tony growled, scrambling up, rolling onto hands and knees and straddling Steve’s waist all in one smooth motion.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t fuck you stupid and roll over,” Steve said, resting one hand on Tony’s hip and holding his cock steady with the other, his gaze jumping from the flush darkening Tony’s chest to the spread of his legs, his dick wet and thick and jerking when Steve’s words finally punched through the sex haze showing in his eyes.

Words pushed up the back of Steve’s throat and out in a harsh groan. He ran his hands beneath the spread of Tony’s suit, feeling muscle flexing under his palms and skin flushing even warmer, the low hum of power centred in Tony’s chest resonating down to his bones.

Tony slipped into a steady, rolling rhythm, thick strings of precome leaking from the head of his dick to stain Steve’s shirt. Before the thought had even finished forming Steve wrapped a hand tight around Tony’s cock and jacked it slowly, angling it down so the thin string squeezing free dripped onto his bare skin.

“Fuck,” Tony hissed, sinfully reverent, and tumbled forward, knees skidding through the grass and grinding his dick into Steve’s stomach. “God, I want you to really fuck me. Really, honestly fuck me, Steve,” he said, words falling in tiny broken pieces from his mouth to tumble across Steve’s lips as he fumbled for one of Steve’s hands, dragged it back to slap it on his ass, “and I kinda wish you’d left your gloves on because I’d also really like you to get your fingers in me while you’re wearing ‘em just once, but that can wait if you’d rather screw me to within an inch of my life right now.”

Steve swore softly and fanned both hands out over Tony’s ass, spread him wide to make him feel the tug on his hole, force a moan out of him into the close air. “Hold on to me,” Steve said, and instantly Tony gripped his shoulders, curled close with his breath warm in the crook of Steve’s neck.

Tony moaned out loud, ragged encouragement as Steve thrust up, drove in fast and deep, the burst of pleasure it sent through him sudden and shocking and as addictive as everything else Tony made him feel. Long after he usually would’ve eased off, taken Tony in hand, Steve kept going, striving for the blissful release of all the heat churning low in his belly. Tony lifted his head, throat bared like an offering, and Steve held the wicked urge to bite down on tender flesh–to leave his mark somewhere Tony’s designer suits wouldn’t hide–viciously in check until Tony rasped for him to go ahead, do it, and then he couldn’t have resisted if he’d wanted to.

Tony shuddered, the tight clinch of his eyes and slack shape of his mouth as much as the warmth of his come spreading between them breaking the stubborn grip Steve still had on his control. A hard shove sent Tony back onto his cock, and he held Tony down with both hands fisted in the bodysuit as he came, the jagged edges of the twisted zipper cutting into his palms.

But Tony refused to stay still, grinding down and clenching tight while he fought to catch his breath, every scrap he managed to snag slipping free on small noises of pleasure. Any other time, Steve would’ve made him ease up, settle down and enjoy the afterglow instead of riding the edge of it, but couldn’t give up the opportunity to watch him so lost in sensation without the nagging, driving need for release to cut it short.

Tony’s eyes flickered lazily open, bits of grass and dirt falling from his gloves as he stretched his arms high, rocked back to lounge against Steve’s thighs, a sly smile flirting with the corners of his mouth. “I could just stay here,” he said. “Wait for you to get it up again, ride you nice and easy.”

“You’ll regret it in the morning,” Steve said, which didn’t mean no. It wasn’t even even close.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Tony glanced at his hand, the mess clinging to it, and rubbed his fingers briefly together. It didn’t help. A second later, his gaze jumped to where Steve’s gloves lay abandoned in the grass. “You could always give me something other than your dick to ride.”

Steve’s insides gave a hot lurch. “Now you’re just looking for an excuse to be dirty.”

Tony leaned slowly forward and planted a hand beside Steve’s head. Bringing their mouths close, he nipped at Steve’s lip and said, “I’ll stop looking for an excuse when you stop thinking I need one.”

–

End

This entry was posted Monday, February 1st, 2010 in Iron Man, Marvel.
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